


Hebbian Theory

by TheCohort



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot Collection, Shorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:45:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2555063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCohort/pseuds/TheCohort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Cells that fire together, wire together"<br/>A series of oneshots about Fitz and Mack.</p><p>1. Fitz can't sleep<br/>2. Fitz drunk dials the wrong number for a ride home (AU)<br/>3. Woah porn (or, Fitz really likes when Mack holds onto him)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Closer to Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small little scene to get back to writing and practice with these characters. More substantial oneshots to come (hopefully).

Mack was standing, staring into the empty fridge at way the fuck too late at night, when he first caught the tell tale whisper of a television running somewhere in the base. He frowned into the bright fridge and closed the door with a huff, ignoring the hollow feeling of hunger in his stomach and turning into the hallway. 

It could be anyone really. Everyone in the base had reasons to be awake at night. It wasn't hard to imagine any one of the other agents sitting up into the night after a too-true nightmare; it was not a surprise at all to turn the corner and spot Fitz' curly hair poking over the back of the couch. He eyed the screen where Aragorn was just yanking his hood off to talk to the hobbits in the Prancing Pony.

"Kind of a long movie for two in the morning."

"It's closer to three." Fitz mumbled, not turning away from the tv. 

Mack rubbed at his still gummy eyes and moved around the couch to slump down into the cushions beside Fitz, perking up slightly when he noticed the bowl of popcorn in the other man's lap. 

Fitz huffed. "You shouldn't eat at night." he said as a handful of his popcorn was stolen.

Mack looked at Fitz pointedly.

"Shut up. Doesn't count if you're not going to be sleeping."

Mack hummed and eyed the bags beneath the scientist's eyes, the shadows only made more apparent by the sharp light of the movie playing in the dark room. "And why aren't you?"

Fitz waved a hand vaguely. "Can't stop thinking. Keep waking up."

"Ah that explains it. Substituting Lord of the Rings for Nyquil?" 

"That's not funny. It's an amazing film." Fitz muttered. 

Mack rolled his shoulders and slumped farther into the couch, propping his feet onto the coffee table and letting himself sink towards the middle and Fitz, enjoying the warmth of another body along his side as he grabbed another handful of popcorn. He smiled wryly when he heard, just barely over the sound of horses from the movie, Fitz give a shaky sigh at the change in position. 

Fitz shifted as if uncomfortable but the motion just pressed him closer. "Did you know that Frodo is supposed to be the oldest of the hobbits but he's played by the youngest actor, And that Pippin is the youngest but his actor is the oldest?"

Mack gave a huff of laughter and shook his head. "Leave it to you to know useless movie trivia."

"s'not useless. Just gives you a bit of, a bit of... um."

"Background? Perspective? Context?"

"Yeah. All of it." 

Mack hummed in acknowledgement.

Fitz nudged him where their shoulders met. "Elijah Wood was only seventeen when they filmed this." He was silent for a moment. "That's pretty amazing, talent wise. Must've been crazy to get a lead role at that age."

Mack frowned. "How old were you when you graduated high school?"

"I tested out at fourteen."

"First degree?" Mack asked.

Fitz was quiet for a long moment. "Seventeen." He finally mumbled.

"That's pretty amazing, talent wise." Mack said, parroting the scientists words.

Fitz slid a bit lower into the couch. Mack glanced over quickly, worried he had somehow upset the scientist, but relaxed back into the seat when he saw a slight smile on the other man's face. Good silence then. Mack nodded to himself and turned his attention back to the movie. 

Hunger sated, Mack was having a hard time keeping his eyes from dropping closed when he felt the tap of an additional ten pounds against his shoulder. He rolled his head over the back of the couch to glance down at the curly head beside him. "Fitz? You fallin' asleep on me, man?"

No answer.

"Well then." He muttered and glanced to the television screen. No need for that. He reached over to set the popcorn bowl aside and to grab the remote at Fitz' far side, careful not to move enough to wake the sleep deprived Fitz. 

Mack snapped the television off and considered the way he was sitting. A night of sleeping upright wouldn't improve anyone's morning, really. He took a moment, weighing the pros of staying put against the promise of a neck ache tomorrow, and sighed. Eyeing the width of the couch he carefully lowered Fitz onto his side across the cushions, keeping contact with him the entire way and settling behind the smaller man. 

Fitz probably wouldn't mind.


	2. A Stranger Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "accidentally called your number while drunk asking for a ride and you actually came au"  
> from [this](http://xaquaangelx.tumblr.com/post/101800154250/list-of-aus-that-arent-themed-at-all-were) tumblr post

It's 1:30 in the morning and Mack isn't sure why but his phone has rung long enough to wake him from a particularly pleasant dream, stopped and then begun ringing again. It's not a number he recognizes so he waits a beat and watches the call go to voice mail. When it rings again he sighs and finally picks it up with a gruff "Hello?"

"Finally!" Exclaims a voice he has never heard. "I've been calling you so... uhm. A lot of times!"

"About that," Mack starts.

"Doesn't matter." The man interrupts, voice slightly slurred. Or it might be his accent. Mack thinks it might be Scottish. "I need you to come get me. With your car." There's a pause. "Jemma's wandered off and disappeared and it's fine. She's fine. But she was the one with the uh, getaway plan?" The longer the man talks the more alarmed Mack feels. "She's probably off making. Making. Uh... bunches of new friends. You know how she is when she drinks."

Mack doesn't know how she is.

"Are you drunk?" Mack interrupts.

"What? No, no. Just... maybe. A bit."

This kid, because Mack is fairly certain he can't be talking to anyone over 25, sounds completely hopeless and lord help him but Mack just might, yes, yes he _is_  considering picking up a complete stranger from a bar. Mack sighs and shoots a glare at the red numbers of his bedside clock.

And wow, the kid is still rambling. Something about the effects of alcohol on the brain. "Look, Turbo, slow down for a moment and just tell me where you are."

"What do you mean where am I? You're the one who told us to come to this bloody place. I've got a couple things to say about that actually. You _completely_  failed to warn us it was a... um... special club?"

Mack takes a deep breath, resigning himself to the guessing game. "A dance club? Strip club? Gay club?"

"YES!" Mack jumps in surprise. "Yes, a gay club."

There was a long pause on the other end. "Why did you just call me turbo?"

"Bit of a motor mouth when you drink, huh?" Mack asks.

"Suppose so." The man on the phone mumbled.

"Okay look," Mack begins, "I'm not sure how drunk you are, but if you haven't already noticed, you have the wrong number. I don't know who you were trying to call but you've got me on the line now. So what's your name?"

There was a shaky "o-oh" on the other end of the line. "Tha' makes a lot more sense. I just thought you had gotten a cold. Or... not you but my friend." Mack waits a beat. "I'm Fitz."

"Alright, Fitz. I'm Mack, am I right in thinking you're at the Cock and Bull?" It was, admittedly, the only gay club Mack knew the location of. It was more of a hope than a guess.

"Ah.. yep."

Mack sighs in relief. "You still want a ride?"

"Um. Sure?"

Mack rolls out of bed and toward the dresser, grabbing a shirt to pull over his head. "What do you look like? I need to know who I'm looking for."

"I'm wearing a sweater, a tie, jeans, tennis shoes?"

Mack shakes his head. This was like pulling teeth. "Yeah, you and every other nerdy asshole in the place." he ignores the indignant 'hey!' and continues, "What do you physically look like, Fitz?"

"I'm, uh, kinda bland looking?" He sounded embarrassed. Poor Kid. "With uh... dirty blonde curly hair? Kind of short. I'm white."

Mack frowns, paused in the middle of trying to pull on his right shoe with only the one hand. Well, best be honest. "I'm not. That gonna be a problem?"

"Of course not." Fitz huffs.

"Well alright then. I'm heading out now, you want me to stay on the phone?" Mack asks as he grabs his keys off the counter and leaves the apartment.

"Nnnnnno. I'm okay. How long'll you be?"

"20 minutes tops."

Mack heard a shuffling noise like Fitz was nodding his head against the phone. "Cool. Cool. I will definitely be here." and then he hung up.

Mack stares at the phone a moment before shaking his head and pocketing it.

If nothing else, this'd make a hell of a story.

\-----

The thing about The Cock and Bull is that it's actually a fairly busy place. There are at least 30 people lingering in front of the entrance, smoking and drinking in the cool night air, and a good quarter of them fit the description Fitz gave of himself. Mack ends up having to find a spot in the parking lot across the street just so he doesn't feel like a creep slowly driving by and checking out the loiterers.

He gets out and sits on the hood of his car so he can see the club and calls Fitz. It takes a couple tries for the other man to pick up the phone, and when he does Mack can immediately tell he's gone back into the club. The sound of the dj's mangled version of Wild Cherry is clear through the speakers and when Fitz finally speaks up he's yelling over the music.

"Fitz?"

"Who's this!?" Fitz shouts.

"It's Mack. You called me and asked for a ride. You still want to leave, man?"

"Yeah!" Fitz shouts then, to someone else, Mack hears, "It's my stranger friend, I gotta go."

"I'm in the lot across the street."

"Alright." Fitz answers and hangs up again.

Mack sighs, crosses his arms and sits back to wait, eyes on the door.

He knows as soon as he sees him that the guy who just walked out is Fitz. Phone in hand, tripping slightly over the toes of his converse and head turning side to side as he takes in the surrounding people and the road. Mack thinks Fitz was really selling himself short on the phone. The outfit is exactly as he described but he's far from unremarkable. No, he doesn't look like a chiseled underwear model, but his face looks quite nice.

He also looks like a drunk mess.

"You're wearing pajama bottoms." Is the first thing Fitz says to him face to face.

"I was sleeping, Turbo."

Fitz continues staring, face tightening into a focused frown. "Are you wearing pants?"

Mack gapes in surprise. One of his closest friends was British. Mack knows exactly where Fitz is staring. "I was sleeping." he repeats. Fitz sways a little and nods. "How much did you drink?" Mack asks, concerned. Fitz looks for all intents and purposes like the buttoned uptight sort, completely at odds with most of what he's said tonight.

"Well after I called you I got kinda freaked out and so I went back in and told this lovely lady, uhm.... Mizz Maria? all about it and she bought me a couple shots." He grinned.

Mack's friends were never going to believe this.

Mack stands and gently maneuvers Fitz toward the passenger side door, helping him in when stepping into the car seemed to be giving him a hard time. When he gets himself buckled into the driver seat Fitz almost immediately pokes him in the bicep with a shaky finger. Mack chooses to simply ignore it and starts the car. "You said you were out with a friend, right? We need to find her?"

Fitz shakes his head quickly. "She's fine. She always plans for stuff like this."

"Are you sure?" It sounds like a bad idea to Mack.

"She'll be fiiiine." Fitz waves his hand vaguely then makes a sudden dive for his phone. Mack does his best to keep his eyes on the road, but can't help be a bit distracted as Fitz proceeds to take a photo of him and giggle. "If she saw you she'd probably say something like 'he's quite a lot of a man'."

Mack manages not to laugh at Fitz's high pitched and breathy impression of his friend, though it's close.

"I'm gonna send her a picture." Fitz explains. "Then if you end up being a crazy person someone knows who to look for." Fitz grinned at Mack as he pressed send.

Mack nods. Fair enough. "So where am I taking you?"

"Ah... uh. 4030 east Washington."

"Alright." Mack glances over and frowns. "Buckle up."

Fitz gives another giggle but manages to get the seat belt clipped in despite his shaking hands.

\-----

"Where're we?" Fitz asks in a sleepy slur.

Mack eyes the apartment building to his left. "Your apartment?"

"No iss not."

"It's the address you gave me."

Fitz slumps forward in his seat to squint out the window. "Nope."

At this point Mack isn't even surprised. Tonight has been the most bizarre night of his life and now he has an almost complete stranger half asleep in the passenger seat of his car so sure, why not? Of course the kid's too drunk to remember his address.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm too tired for this; I'm taking you back to my place and you can sleep on the couch."

"Rude." Fitz grumbles.

Mack gapes. "What, you want the bed?"

Fitz gives a funny kind of shrug from where he's slid halfway down the seat. "Is it nice?"

"It's better than a couch." he says. A lot better, if Mack is being honest. His couch is a second hand piece of garbage.

"Mmmkay." Fitz says with a sleepy smile. "We can share."

Mack is not going to share.

Mack does not want to be attacked by a confused and hungover kid he's just met.

  
II

Fitz' first thought when he wakes up is that he does not own flannel sheets. His second thought is that he's about to throw up and that would be awful for said flannel sheets. He scrambles out of the bed, larger than his own, out of the open doorway and directly into the next one he sees, thankful when it is indeed the bathroom and almost immediately dropping next to the toilet.

It tastes like bitter bile and sticky sweet Sambuca and Fitz is sure if he had to describe the taste of regret this'd be it. Fitz waits until his stomach is mostly done lurching in his torso before slowly rising from the tile floor and carefully shuffling out into the hallway to see where he's wound up.

When he finds the man, Mack, sleeping on the beat up old couch with his feet hanging over the arm rest for lack of room, he can't believe any of what he remembers actually happened. He also has a strong urge to take a photo of the large man sleeping on the small couch to send to Jemma. He's prevented from doing so by the flood of text messages he finds on his phone.

Most of them are variations of "WHO IS THAT?" and "WHERE ARE YOU?"

He decides to take that photo and send it as his answer.

He's tiptoeing around the kitchen, trying to figure out the other man's coffee maker when Jemma calls him.

"Oh my gosh, Fitz. What is going on?" She asks as soon as he unlocks his phone. "Who is that? Where did you go last night?"

Fitz manages to find the coffee and filters. "I'm not completely sure." He whispers. "It seems last night I somehow... called the wrong number for a ride home?"

"What?"

"Well, I tried. Tried to. uh... dialing for Tripp and I must have missed the numbers because I called this guy instead. And he actually picked me up."

"Fitz, why didn't you just call Tripp through your contacts? Why would you even bother dialing?"

"I was drunk." Fitz whispers through gritted teeth. "How should I know?"

Having managed to start the coffee pot brewing he wandered to the entrance between the kitchen and living room. Watching Mack sleep as he slowly began to panic. He shook his right hand nervously in front of him. "What do I do when he wakes up? How am I going to, uh, going to f-face him." He took a shaky breath. "Oh my god."

"I'm sure it will be fine." Jemma said calmly. "How bad can it be? He let you stay at his place so he must like you at least a little bit."

"I asked him if he was wearing pants."

Jemma spluttered. "WHY?"

"Because he wasn't!" Fitz hissed.

"Well what are you doing now?"

Fitz turned around and back into the kitchen. "Making coffee? Seemed polite."

"If you're making coffee he won't be asleep for long." Jemma hummed on the other end of the line. "Do you want me to come get you? Do you know where you are?"

Fitz took another stop and start breath and nodded. "I can get the address from my phone I think. I'll send it. To you." Fitz felt sick. "I have to go."

He quickly hung up and rushed back to the bathroom.

When Fitz reemerged he found Mack sitting up on the couch and smiling sympathetically at him. And rubbing at his neck. Fitz felt suddenly awful. "I did a, no I made... oh god."

"Coffee?" Mack asked. "Thanks."

"Yes thank you. NO, I mean. I made the coffee for a thank you. To thank you." Fitz winced and glanced down to where his fingers were fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

"Hey man, it's cool. I appreciate it."

Fitz watched him stand and head past Fitz to the bathroom. Good lord he was tall. Fitz turned, lingering in the living room without a clue as to what he should do next. He still hadn't figured it out when Mack returned and handed him a bottle of aspirin and a little paper cup of water.

Fitz smiled in thanks and took the bottle, quickly opening it despite the nervous shaking of his hands and downing the water and painkillers like another shot. Fitz handed the now empty paper cup back to Mack with a wince.

"I should probably get going." Fitz

"You did make coffee. Be a shame if you didn't get any."

Does that mean Mack wants him to stay? This is really not Fitz' forte. "I've got a uh... friend. Coming to get me." He waves his cell phone in explanation.

Mack raises his eyebrows and gives a nod, mouth tightening around a soft "ah."

And Fitz again feels proper awful. "But I might have time for just the one."

"One?"

"Cup of coffee." Fitz clarifies.

It's a little awkward, neither of them knowing quite what to say after meeting the way they did, but it could be a lot less comfortable. They're mostly silent as they sit at Mack's small fold up table sipping their coffee, which is just fine for Fitz; his head is still throbbing and though the coffee is helping he's worried if he opens his mouth to speak the coffee will refuse to stay in his stomach.

Mack surprises Fitz by breaking the silence to ask, "Did your friend from the other night make it home?"

"Jemma?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"She's fine." Fitz glances back to his phone, still nervously waiting for a message to let him know she was outside. "I had 7 texts from her this morning." he admits. "I think she was worried."

"Yeah, you sent her a picture of a stranger with no explanation. Lucky she didn't call the cops."

"There wasn't... not an explanation."

Mack was giving him a questioning look but Fitz couldn't explain. It had been something along the line of 'look at all of this man' but with an embarrassing number of typos. He's lucky if the message got across at all. Or unlucky. Fitz supposes it depends on how Jemma reacted to it.

There's a hand waving into his vision where Fitz has been staring as he thinks. "Yo. Fitz."

"Hmm?" Fitz hums, turning back to attention.

"Your phone buzzed."

Fitz blinks back down to his phone. Sure enough, the screen is lit and there's a message icon in his notifications bar. "That's... I've got to go." Fitz mumbles and stands. "Thanks for the ride."

Mack looks oddly concerned but nods. "No problem, Turbo." He gives a grin, "Try not to call anymore strangers in the middle of the night."

Fitz gives a shaky nod, a stuttered 'bye' and flees through the front door.

  
III

It's been two weeks since Mack fetched Fitz from the nightclub. His friends barely believed him when he told them about it and the only personal proof he has is the number he had tentatively added to his contacts. You know, just in case. With two weeks gone by and considering how skittish and shy Fitz was the morning after he thinks he shouldn't have bothered.

But it sticks around in his phone, a small reminder of one of the stranger nights of his life.

And then he sort of forgets about it until the name "Fitz" is flashing on his screen on a Friday night.

"I know it's been a while," Fitz starts almost immediately after Mack answers the phone, "but I'm sure you remember me... not because I'm memorable! Or anything l-like that. I just, it was a weird night." Mack can hear a shaky breath on the other end and a soft British voice somewhere away from the speaker saying 'go on'. "But uh..." Fitz continues, "We're going out tonight? I thought maybe I could buy you a drink. Not coffee!" Fitz adds. "Just, y'know. We kinda did that. Before."

Mack laughs. "And then I suppose I'd give you a ride home?"

"Your home?" Fitz squeaks.

"Your home." Mack clarifies. "I was thinking I could get your address from you _before_  you get drunk this time."

"Oh, right."

Mack can't help but grin. "Unless you wanted to come back to mine."

"No! No. That'd be far... far too. um. Presumptuous? of me."

Mack hums in agreement. "Sure thing Turbo, you go ahead and presume all you like." He grins at the sound of Fitz stuttering through the phone. "What was your address again?"

Fitz tells him. It's nowhere near where Mack recalls driving him last time.

Hell, Maybe Fitz had known that.

"I'll be there in ten."

 


	3. Hold Me Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cuddly pwp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to write, so I'm posting it now because if I wait till I'm happy with it we'll all be waiting a very long time. And now that I'm done with this one I can start my ridiculous fake dating/Christmas fic (and who knows how long that one will take).

Fitz thinks about it. And thinks about it.

He supposed it should have occurred to him earlier, but in his defense the last few months had been confusing and stressful. Fitz was fairly sure that he might, sort of, have feelings for Mack. Just a little.

It was different than the way he had felt for Jemma, though not so much that he didn't eventually recognize it. Fitz' love for Jemma had developed over the course of years. It had been a comfortable affection fostered by a meeting of minds. And yes, of course, Fitz had found Jemma to be beautiful. But his physical attraction to Jemma had played a secondary role in the whole affair.

But with Mack it felt like every aspect of their relationship was physical. As large as he was almost everything Mack did seemed to have some weight behind it. Standing beside him Fitz could feel his body heat through the thin over shirts he wore to work and Fitz' aphasia meant that working together in the lab involved more gesturing and touching than working with Jemma had.

Plus, Mack was REALLY attractive.

And it only took a couple of his subconscious Simmons' observations for it to really take hold in the forefront of Fitz' thinking.

And once he'd noticed he couldn't seem to stop noticing.

Which was a problem as he sat curled up on the couch beside Mack, trying his best to focus on the Weather Channel special on tornadoes they were watching instead of the warm line of Mack's thigh along Fitz' hips and feet, or the fact that Mack had his arm thrown over the back of the couch and if Fitz tipped his head back he'd be using the inside of Mack's elbow as a pillow.

Fit'z eyes blurred out of focus, mind completely losing the plot of the show. Did Mack mean something by his constant contact or was Fitz a victim of wishful thinking? Fitz didn't think this was necessarily normal among most friends, but then, there wasn't much of anything "normal" in their lives.

It was possible Mack was just a tactile person, though Fitz couldn't recall him touching any of the others as much as he did with Fitz. Admittedly, he wasn't usually around when Mack spent time with the rest of the team (a fact he often scolded himself for but couldn't seem to gather the courage to fix).

Fitz glanced quickly to his right where Mack sat. Fitz knew what this would look like to an outsider. They were practically cuddling. If he just shifted, slouched down into the seat and closer to Mack... Fitz took a deep breath, hopefully of courage, and let it out in a sigh as he did just that, shifting closer and letting his head drop against the dip between Mack's bicep and shoulder.

"You fallin' asleep?" Mack asked.

"Mmm... huh." Fitz hummed in agreement. It was as good an excuse as any. Just in case he needed one.

"Did you want to head to bed?"

"Nah, 'm okay." Fitz mumbled, doing his best to sound genuinely sleepy.

Fitz felt his pillow shift slightly as Mack nodded and let himself relax into the new position. Now that he was there it actually was quite comfortable, the smooth narration from the tv lulling him closer to the sleep he had decided to fake.

When Fitz blinked back awake it was to a midnight rerun of "Freak Weather" and the feel of a warm arm around his back and a hand on his stomach. Fitz shifted, pulling his good hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. He looked around him, heat filling his cheeks when he realized what he was seeing.

Somehow, in his sleep he had managed to shift even closer, practically into Mack's lap.

He looked up to Mack's face, smiling softly when he found the other man had also fallen asleep, head dropped against the couch back and mouth slightly open.

Well, that definitely counted as cuddling.

Fitz tried to shift, as slowly and carefully as possible, to release the arm that had fallen asleep while trapped between Fitz and Mack's chest.

Fitz noticed the moment Mack started to wake up. The thumb attached to the hand on his stomach began sliding back and forth aimlessly for a moment before the chest beneath his shoulder heaved in a yawn.

Mack ran his other hand over his face before smiling down at Fitz. Thumb still rubbing increasingly distracting trails over Fitz' abdomen. "What time is it?"

"Um... Midnight-ish" Fitz wasn't sure. But Mack's entire hand had moved to rubbing slow circles up and down his side and it wasn't helping his concentration in the least. Fitz wasn't sure if Mack even realized what he was doing.

"Huh." Mack grunted.

Fitz was pretty sure this wasn't something you did with friends. Fitz really didn't think he was reading this wrong. He let out an uncertain "um" before lifting himself upright and pressing his good hand to Mack's jaw and a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Mack pulled away quickly, staring at Fitz for a long moment before asking, "You sure about that, Turbo?"

Fitz swallowed, nervous, and nodded quickly. "Of course."

Mack raised an eye brow.

"Yes." He said firmly. "I'm very sure."

Fitz barely heard the muttered "Oh, thank god." before he was pulled forward and back into a much more direct kiss.

It was so much better than Fitz could have hoped for. Fitz did his best to resist smiling for fear of interrupting the press of lips and the feel of Mack's beard against his own stubble. Fitz hadn't anticipated how much he would like the scratch and pull of facial hair against his skin.

Fitz squirmed closer, wanting more and sighing happily when Mack's hands slid up and over his sides and back to hold him tight. Perfect. He would be perfectly happy if he was never let go.

There was just the slightest bit of solid pressure against Fitz' bottom lip before Mack pulled away. Fitz could still perfectly feel the nerves in his lip responding to the sensation. It wasn't until he'd leaned back in to place another quick peck to Mack's lips that he realized the other man had actually bit him. Fitz groaned softly. He opened his own mouth to return the favor but found himself sucking on the soft flesh rather than biting it.

Mack didn't seem to mind if the clenching of his hands against Fitz' back was anything to go by. His arms tightened as he dropped his own mouth open, tongue pressing out to meet Fitz' lips and tongue.

Fitz surged forward, hands sliding around Mack's neck as he eagerly ran his tongue across straight teeth and slick muscle.

Mack groaned, the vibration rumbling through Fitz' own chest, and pulled them down over his half of the couch, leaving Fitz completely sprawled over the larger man. Fitz flushed at the change, the curling heat in his groin pressed against the solid plains of Mack's abdomen. He couldn't help the embarrassed whimper that buzzed over their joined lips. Fitz didn't think he was supposed to be that hard that quickly.

It seemed rude.

But Mack just dropped his right hand to Fitz' ass to push his hips closer.

"We should stop." Mack said, lips pulling away despite the hand still fixed firmly to Fitz' rear end.

"No, we shouldn't." Fitz muttered with a pout.

Mack grinned. "We're in the middle of the common room. Someone is going to wander in." Fitz felt Mack's hand give a squeeze before he added, "Probably any minute now."

Mack did have a point. No one in the base was known for sleeping through the night. But Fitz really didn't want to leave the warm circle of Mack's arms, the thought in fact made his stomach flip in protest. "But I want to stay right here." He pressed himself as close as possible, dropping his head to Mack's shoulder, to ensure the larger man knew he wasn't talking about the common room.

Mack huffed. "My room's not that far." He suggested, "I could just carry you."

Fitz' head jerked up to gape. "What, like, really?"

Mack was smirking, eyebrow raised in surprise as he asked, "Why, would you like that?"

"I uh..." Fitz could feel his face getting hotter, and then Mack was grinning. "I wouldn't, um, NOT like it."

"Alright then."

A bit of maneuvering, blink and you miss it rearranging, and Fitz was being hefted into the air, legs around Mack's waist and arms around his shoulders.

Mack walked them out of the common room and towards the dormitory hall, occasionally taking his eyes off of where he was going to press quick kisses to Fitz' lips. His hands stayed plastered to Fitz' thighs and every step he took jostled Fitz just enough to drag their hips together. By the time they made it to Mack's doorway Fitz was well past eager.

Fitz whined in protest when Mack tried to set him down on the bed.

Mack only laughed, "This gonna be a thing?"

"Probably." Fitz mumbled, trying not to look too embarrassed.

"Alright, but I need you to let me go so I can get undressed."

He let go almost immediately, dropping to bounce on the bed and watch as Mack smirked and gave a little nod before pulling his t-shirt over his head. "You could do the same." Mack suggested.

Fitz startled, nodding sharply before quickly moving to unbutton his own shirt. His hands shook as he worked, but he managed to get halfway down before the bed dipped with extra weight and a warm pair of hands came around from behind him to help with the last few closures.

Fitz struggled out of his shirt, trying to move fast and getting himself tangled in the sleeves for his trouble. When he finally managed to rid himself of both his button up and his undershirt Mack pulled him back against his chest, a solid heat against Fitz' skin.

"Oh." Fitz breathed.

Mack's arms tightened around him briefly. "Okay?"

Fitz nodded enthusiastically and gave a stuttered "uh-huh."

Fitz felt the scratch of beard and the warm press of lips against the back of his neck, right above the knob of his spine. "You ever want to stop just let me know." Another kiss. "Don't like something? Tell me. Hell, you wanna give me a running commentary of everything goin' on in that busy brain of yours, I won't mind."

Fitz laughed at that. "Not necessary. I trust you."

Mack fell silent, dropping his chin to rest on Fitz' shoulder and thumbs stroking over Fitz' chest. "Thank you. I trust you, too." He pressed a kiss to the joint of Fitz' jaw, just under his ear. "That being said, I can't read your mind, so I want you to tell me what you want when you can."

Fitz nodded and sighed. "Can do."

Mack grinned against his shoulder. "That's good." He then shifted, causing them both to fall onto their sides on the bed, Mack now spooned against Fitz' back and legs, arms still tight around his torso and hands stroking over Fitz' stomach. His fingers skimmed through the sparse hair on Fitz' lower belly and over the waist of his trousers. "Still want these on?" Mack asked.

"Bloody hell, no." Fitz whimpered, practically a whisper.

Mack laughed, the low chuckle buzzing against Fitz' back as his fingers made quick work of the button and zip. Mack slipped his hands beneath the waistband of trousers and the elastic of boxers around Fitz' hips, pulling them down as Fitz wriggled and shifted off the bed.

Fitz swallowed down his nerves, the warmth of Mack's hands on his skin providing a small comfort as his erection bobbed free from his pants and his face flushed in embarrassment. Objectively Fitz new there was nothing to feel weird about. Part of nature and all that.

Fitz soldiered on and kicked his trousers off and over the side of the bed.

He was suddenly, immediately reminded that Mack was already naked. Warm skin to warm skin from Fitz' head to toes. He curled up on his side a bit, glancing back to try and get a look at the other man. Fitz eyes lingered at the curve of Mack's thighs and the line where their bodies were pressed. He felt incredibly small curled up beside Mack.

"Still good?" Mack asked.

Fitz gave a nervous laugh, but smiled, "Soooo good."

Mack moved his right arm away from Fitz chest to reach back behind him, returning to Fitz' line of vision with a small tube of clear gel.

"When did you grab that?" Fitz asked as he watched Mack squeeze a dollop of the lube onto his fingers.

"After I got undressed." He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Fitz' head. "You were a bit busy at the time. Don't get too excited there, Turbo, too tired for anything overly acrobatic."

"I don't think that's the word."

"But it's the word we're going with." Mack rumbled as he finally dropped his hand to Fitz waist, warm fingers wrapping around his erection and pulling upward slowly. Fitz' breath hitched around a groan, hips twitching forward and then back, pressing against the hot line of Mack's cock against the line of his ass.

"in.. intrusive."

"Hmm?" Mack hummed in question, hand continuing its slow teasing stroke.

"The word. That you meant." Fitz groaned. "Not 'acrobatic'."

Mack gave a huff of laughter, warm breath fanning over the damp trails on Fitz' neck in a cool chill. "That was the implication, yeah." He shifted his hand lower, cupping Fitz' balls and pressing a couple fingers to press just past the soft skin; the lube on his hand making the inside of Fitz' thighs slippery and the pressure igniting a heavy spark in Fitz hips.

Fitz moaned, long and breathy. The slippery feeling between his legs was unfamiliar, but hell if it didn't make everything feel that much better.

He whimpered in protest when Mack pulled his hand away. "No... what are... why would you?" Fitz tried to find his words until he felt the hot pressure of Mack's erection sliding between his legs and along the sensitive skin where his fingers had been pressed moments before.

Fitz' breath hitched in surprise. "Oh okay. I, uh. Got it. Good. That's-- carry on."

Mack laughed, the sound turning into a low moan after just a moment.

Fitz' breath caught at the sound. That was. Gratifying. Fitz grinned, tilted his hips back and squeezed his thighs together.

Mack gasped, arms tightening around Fitz' torso, and growled out a "God, Fitz."

And yeah, Fitz really liked the sound of that.

"So this is... what?" Fitz huffed. "A... uh, parody? Of the 'acrobatic'?"

Mack gave an exasperated groan. "Alright now, don't get cocky."

Fitz giggled and gave another backward thrust. Mack's hand pressed closer against Fitz' stomach before he too began thrusting his hips, just barely, in counterpoint to Fitz. His hands slid up and over Fitz' chest, wrapping and holding him tightly and Fitz felt like his chest might burst with how nice it all felt. Like he'd never been safer.

Though the hot throbbing between his legs wasn't ideal.

Fitz whined, pressing back against Mack and hoping the other man could figure out what he needed because Fitz was pretty sure any attempt to speak would be an incomprehensible babble.

Mack gave a rumbled sort of groan, sort of laugh, that must have been an acknowledgement that he had understood since the arm that wasn't trapped beneath Fitz immediately moved south.

Fitz felt Mack's warm hand fit itself back between his legs, stroking up and over the sensitive head with a twist. Fitz rolled his head back against Mack's shoulder with a purr.

"s'not fair." he said between breaths. "How're you so good at everything?"

Mack just laughed, god Fitz loved the sound, before sliding his thumb through the gathered pre-cum and causing Fitz' prick to jerk with another pulse of the clear fluid. Mack's hand moved faster, fingers tightening as his own hips continued moving behind Fitz.

A sudden rush of wet heat between his legs and there were too many sensations to keep track of.

Fitz came with a long groan, arching forward and spurting over Mack's hand and the bedspread beneath them.

Fitz could barely think through the moment but he was still aware of the fact that Mack was curled up around him, still holding onto Fitz tightly as they caught their breaths.

Fitz shifted, rolled over as much as he could, and wriggled up the bed to press his lips to Mack's in a soft kiss. He was sweaty and sticky, knew they needed to get up and clean the mess they'd made but first he really needed to know.

"Can I stay?"

Mack looked stunned by the question. "Please."

Fitz buried his face against Mack's neck to hide his relief and his no doubt wobbly grin.

They could probably stand to wait a bit before they cleaned up.


End file.
